Bring it on Down to London Town

Sam Berit

“Our main coping mechanism on public transport is a form of what psychologists call ‘denial’: we try to

avoid acknowledging that we are among a scary crowd of strangers, and to maintain as much privacy as

possible, by pretending that they do not exist – and, much of the time, pretending that we do not exist either. The denial rule requires us to avoid talking to strangers, or even making eye contact with them, or indeed acknowledging their presence in any way unless absolutely necessary.” Pg. 53 on Public Transport Rules

To a degree, I understand the comfortable bliss of tuning out the world. Everyone needs a moment to themselves to stare out a window and contemplate what they want to make for dinner. However, there is an eeriness that encompasses the tube’s interior during its quietest moments.

I felt this piercing silence during a trip back from St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was rush hour, and the tube was packed with people dressed in professional attire. Sewn into their suits and seats, everyone sat with headphones in their ears and blank expressions on their faces. It was post-work exhaustion, and it was tangible. I understood it. I sympathized with it. However, I could not seem to feel comfortable within its presence. I peered over to one side of the brightly-lit train and saw two straight rows of seated people moving with the body of the vehicle. Each cart was moving in its own snakelike pattern, and the train’s structure seemed to stretch on for miles. No one noticed my perplexed gaze. No one looked up. I imagined they would all bring their eyes up to look at me in unison as if I were in a horror movie. Fortunately, this did not happen, but the feeling stuck to me. I have felt this unease numerous times since this occurrence, but I have grown more accustomed to it. I can confirm that Londoners want their peace and privacy on the tube.

“Although chips were invented in Belgium, and are popular (as French-fries, frites, patate frite, patatas fritas, etc.) in many other parts of the world, we found that English people tend to think of them as British or, rather more specifically, English. ‘Fish and chips’ is still regarded as the English national dish. The English are not normally inclined to be either patriotic or passionate about food but we found that they could be surprisingly patriotic and enthusiastic about the humble chip.” Pg. 120

I truly thought my knowledge of “the British chip” was both immensely thorough and concise: a chip is a British French fry. However, I have recently been informed of this snack’s true meaning and functions. Thin French fries are just referred to as fries here. I was flabbergasted when I saw both chips and fries as side options on the same menu at a nearby restaurant. I thought all fries were called chips and that this rule was absolute. But alas, my initial perceptions failed in England’s reality. Thicker French fries are what the British sweetly refer to as chips. My short-time travel writing professor and long-time English citizen informed me that fish and chips are not even a standard meal here.

To be a true Londoner, one eats Indian food. And beyond this, Brits never say “I’m going to get Indian

food” but rather “I’m going to get a curry”. As an Indian, I am fascinated by this as curry encompasses a mix of spices and not an entire cuisine. I am pleasantly surprised by this new cultural knowledge I am gaining during my study abroad experience.